Just a clump of moss...

  Back when I was just a toddler, I had an aunt who used to fill my head with all sorts of mysterious ideas.  With just a word, Aunt Helen could spark the imagination and lead me into a wonderland filled with mystical creatures, beautiful faeries and magical baubles.  This whimsical forest held all of the fairy tales ever written.  Each time we entered, the tales came to life and she and I became part of them.  More than once, we danced with faeries, climbed to the top of beanstalks or fought off a mean ogre.  The Land of Enchantment was usually none other than some hidden spot where Aunt Helen found a piece of moss growing.  We would gather pretty stones, colored leaves and maybe a flower or two to embellish our garden.  Once we had it to our liking, we would sit while she told me a tale of some faeries and their noble deeds.  I would be totally engrossed in her tales and firmly believed all she said.  After the storytelling, we would act out parts or rush to the house to make "tea and crumpets" (which was usually nothing more than tea and vanilla wafers).  Our grand tea party would be held out in our mossy glade while she told more sweet tales.  This was an amazing thing for a child to experience....especially a kid that grew up on a farm where life was all too real.  Work began as soon as you could walk, play was limited and life and death was a daily thing.  My escapes to the magical kingdoms of Aunt Helen's imagination was a special treat.

  Today as I was cutting firewood, I came across a small clump of carpet moss.  The sight of the moss brought back a flood of memories with Aunt Helen being in the midst of them.   The deep green color, the softness of the tiny fronds and the coolness of touch all made me want to go back to the days when things were simpler and a kid could find happiness in a make-believe world.  As an adult, I had always wanted to be "Aunt Helen" and share the wonderment with little ones but, alas, with all of the stuff being shoved at kids right and left, there is little time to be spent dreaming.  Kids are bombarded at an early age with sensory overload and they cannot separate themselves from it.  Gone are the days when the imagination could take you to another world.  Oh, how I long for simpler times.